Maverick got married to succumbs
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It is ubiquitous,
At the same time,
Its conspicuous presence,
Can be felt in one and all places.
It commands unbridled respect,
Be it out of reverence or otherwise.
There is no single element,
Organic or ossified,
That has not knelt,
Or bent its back,
Down from the belt,
To grovel and prostrate,
And prey to be part of a communion,
When deliverance is forbearance and grace,
While with the same breath prays to be spared?
When rages and wrath,
Are showered on the face of the earth.
It rules with iron fist,
Omnipotent as it is-
It perambulates,
In the colonnaded boulevards,
Dragging all sorts of trinkets,
And blowing off habiliments of pulchritude,
Who are ever conscious of what they are made of.
You can put dust devil to test,
It is fast,
And for speed, the African cheetah is a gastropod,
Limping on one and half feet.
It swishes and swirls,
Down the valleys, it slithers,
In search of yet more invisible devils,
To share the spoils from the city it had managed to wangle.
Part two
At points where the valleys make bends,
This swashbuckler ominously collided its face,
Against the hard surfaces,
And with roars and shrills it soars
Up to space.
Only to ascend to a desolate place
In outrageous mood, to unload
Pent-up remorse.
However, no sooner had it arrived,
Than it gathered momentum and there it went
To a fast gear drive.
It beat, whipped hard and threshed the sand,
Torque it turned, on its head to stand.
This maverick caused obviate havoc
By tearing out and apart
The desert’s heart.
It slung on its back
Decomposed newspaper clips
And other bric-a-brac,
Devotedly engaging its arms to drag,
It numerous bags of disused rags.
And as if it had been hit
On the head,
It spiralled in whirling fit.
It traversed the entire desert’s breadth,
And filled the space between the sky and the earth
With dust particles - condensed,
Leaving no clean air to breathe.
Feeling the gritting dust between his teeth
That past through battering its tetrahedron faces.
" I do not like the sand,
Who the real boss is, it
Does not bother to understand.
It irritates the scrotum - that vulnerable soft skin of mine,
And the ones’ that go down through the throat-
They are horrid to my test."
It was heard, the maverick filing a complaint,
Against who but its own silhouette.
Having run out of luck,
Turning clear blue skies, untimely to dusty dusk,
In disappointment it turned its back
And made its way to the
Vast watery park,
Where here and there, though far in between,
Standing few dry outcrops in stark.
Yes! That was when it’s made a trip to the ocean,
For a long vacation.
There it hovered, gilded, surfed
And dived into the depth,
And took a thorough bath,
To get rid of the desert filth;
Washed away the letters-
That had blotched it face-
Drowned the newspaper clips-
That had clung unremittingly to its back and hips -
Deep in the ocean womb,
As a Yummy dish for the salty water to feast.
However, as he stayed longer,
Offering its spoils to the brine water,
Ungrateful as is this guest,
It began to cut the dust devil’s throat.
And what? For a thirst,
The quaff turned sour and bitter.
Disillusioned it came out on shore,
Raging in anger, he began to roar.
He and rattled and filliped over lose metals,
Brick and mortars,
Strong buildings made of marble
To their foundations, they began tremble,
And some caved in reduced to rubble.
Although it was aware,
Of its awesome gustily power,
Still he felt a loner,
A swagman - a traveller,
A free raider, it could not get on well
With those next door who dwell.
Though it proffered love,
And admitted in relationship it had been involved
With those elements its life inextricably revolves,
They thought of him as a curt,
With odd manners,
That disrupts, when least expected, their graceful table dinner.
Swishing, whirling and slithering
And turning things upside down,
Blowing them high up above
Many times over,
With no end in sight – ever.
Befriending the maverick,
Sent down his spine
Tremulous shiver.
As if things hadn’t got out of control,
It then decided to do
Something of the sort.
For a moment,
This charter, that
Had known no rest,
For the first time felt staid.
It sat, and began to meditate,
Not to take off – levitate,
But for the rest of its life to settle
And stay put.
It felt of itself, as a stray -
Snivelling and scrounger
That picks pieces left for decay.
It thought of life could be better,
If it were to go elsewhere
And find someone for a companion.
It felt it was time it had enough
Riding high and rough.
It hankered for a marriage if it could,
With the mighty snow-white cloud.
Cushioned in her fluffy cotton feeling flesh,
And miles long blossoming multi-bosoms,
It dreamt of paradise lost,
And its lonesome earthly trouble left behind.
With the Best-man sprinkling confetti -
Snow for, white showers,
Not in one place but the world over,
It dreamt of being carried away
In the midst of the clouds,
In an eternal heavenly highway.
Instead of being light,
Then only then for the first time it felt,
Dignified and heavy in weight.
Instead of being torrid,
It breathed in and out
Live air dressed humid.
Contented, lying on its back,
Legs criss-crossed and pulled inward back,
To its buttock,
Head resting on interlocked knuckles,
It began to feel sorry for,
The years it had lain waste and wrecked,
Chasing undefined targets,
Following the games of those Godforsaken
Hard of luck kibitzers.
However, few days in to the marriage,
Still cut roses scenting fresh,
Still doused with love sweat,
The two of them sailing steadily,
Faster than fast,
Arms round each other neck,
Lips to lips pressed,
Body to body caressed,
New experience fully expressed,
Sailing in floating spaceship express.
However this maverick element had eloped
With all the safety measures it could use dropped,
Without realising that this sumptuous
Bride, succumbs, it had gone to bed with,
Was none other but tempestuous.
Then one fateful night,
Tumultuous collusion –
Loud enough, eardrums could not cope with,
Was heard from within the clouds heart.
Thunder bolts, the primordial
Weapon of terror, took over,
Shredded and torn apart
The veil of honour,
Maverick thought it would not see that hour,
Only to leave it’s captive,
With absolute funk and fear.
Next morning decomposed newspaper clip found
Wind, its wings clipped, face down
Covered with leaves,
Impaled and flat on the ground.
Smeared with mud,
Dust turned sludge,
To take revenge
For the pillages,
Wind had done in its entire
Reckless age,
Before the unholy marriage.
Copyright haileselassie Girmay
28/2/98